


Brown Derby Jump

by sabinelagrande



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Awww OT3, Charles You Slut, Confessions of love, Dancing, Dancing Equals Sex, Erik Oh My, F/M, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Period Appropriate Homophobia, Porn Battle, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Slut Pride, Swing Dancing, There Is No Polite Way to Say Sloppy Seconds, There Is Still No Polite Way to Say Sloppy Seconds, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-30 19:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex and swing dancing, is there anything else you really need?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. she's a looker

"Charles, we're going to be late," Raven protests, as Charles looks at himself in the mirror. He's got everything done but his cufflinks; his hair isn't doing exactly what he wants it to do, but he has no doubt that it'll just get knocked loose ten minutes into the first number, so it's hardly worth worrying about.

"It's a nightclub, darling," he tells her, from behind the closed bathroom door. "They're not going to count us off for being tardy." He can hear her sigh in annoyance; he almost wants to make her wait a little longer, just out of sheer mischief, but he opens the door, walking into the bedroom.

Or rather, he tries to walk into the bedroom, but he's stopped in his tracks by the sight of her. The dress is a new one, nearly the color of her natural skin, and it flairs out just so, accentuating her legs. Her hair is immaculate as usual, done up in a series of complicated rolls on the top of her head, and she couldn't look more perfect if she tried- and when one is speaking of her, that is a very serious statement.

"Do you like it?" she asks. 

He sits down on the edge of the bed. "I don't know how I could not."

"Good," she says; she reaches for his hand, tugging at him. "Now come on, it's past time."

He manages to pull her in instead, into the gap between his legs. "Are you sure you want to go out?" he says, putting his hands on his hips, sliding them up her sides. "We can certainly stay in."

"You insisted on it fifteen minutes ago," she reminds him. "Raven, love," she says, slipping into a perfect imitation of his voice, "you never want to go dancing anymore. Can't we go tonight, please? For me?"

"Yes, well," Charles says, waving a hand at her. "That was before I saw you." His hands are still roaming her body, and when he takes her breasts into his hands, squeezing gently, she gasps. "Don't you think we can be a tiny bit late?" he coaxes. "Please?"

Raven bites her lip, looking down at him. "The hell with it," she says, pushing him back onto the bed and crawling on top of him. "It's got to be quick, and don't touch my hair."

"Your hair looks stunning, as always," Charles tells her, "but I have to confess that I have no interest in it at all right now." He leans up, kissing her. "Besides, your hair took a matter of seconds."

"Yeah, but I don't know if I can think it up again." She hikes her skirt up, tossing it out so it's not in the way anymore, and Charles catches a brief, lovely glimpse of her garters, the black straps looking so sinful against her pale skin. 

He reaches between them, unzipping his fly, and Raven doesn't hesitate; she doesn't even wait for him to push his trousers down, just slips her hand into them and works his cock free, stroking it quickly, making him groan. He's waiting for her to take her underwear off, but she just moves them to the side, lowering herself onto his cock. "Raven," he groans, feeling a little scandalized.

"I said quick," she points out, her voice strained.

"Let's make the most of it," he says, thrusting up into her. She's gloriously wet, so hot around him, and when she starts moving it's so much better, the way her body grips him just so. 

She rides him hard, like she can't control herself at all, and Charles fights through all the fabric separating them, reaching in to find her clit, rubbing it through the fabric of her panties, urging her along. She gasps, biting her lip as if to keep it in, and it just makes Charles want to do more, makes him want to wreck her so thoroughly that she can't hold back.

He's getting there; her mouth falls open, and beautiful, inarticulate things fall from it, noises that are better than words, more primal, much more satisfying. "Charles," she gasps, somewhere in the middle of it, almost unintelligible.

He nods frantically. "Yes, darling, come on, please, I want you to-"

She throws her head back, moaning loudly, and the feeling as she comes around him is absolutely remarkable, like nothing else, better than anything else; Charles doesn't manage much longer, not when she's given him that.

Despite her haste, Raven's quite slow to disentangle herself, standing shakily and offering him a hand up. He takes it, and he very nearly overbalances and sends them both to the floor, but somehow they manage. He leans in to give her a kiss, slow and long, and she smiles when he pulls away, squeezing his hand.

She goes over to the vanity, checking her attire in the mirror; it's really fascinating to watch her level of control, the way she can make individual tresses of her hair move back into position, brighten the color of her lips, even adjust her eyelashes just so. 

He steps up beside her, taking a look at himself, and he makes an unhappy noise. "I should have thought about _my_ hair."

"Leave it," she says. "It suits you."

He frowns at her in the mirror. "I'm not sure what it says me, that you think I look better with the sort of hairstyle that comes from being unexpectedly ravished."

She holds up her hands. "I'm not making any judgments." She picks up her purse. "Are we ready?"

He hooks his arm into hers. "I think the real question, darling, is whether they're ready for us."


	2. fall into the quicksand

It's been four numbers, and Raven is feeling just fine. She and Charles are at the bar while the band takes a break, looking out at the crowd- it's a good one tonight, big and happy, no one looking for a fight.

"Right," Charles says, rubbing his hands together. "I think it's about that time, don't you?"

"I won't say no," Raven tells him, coyly. 

"I'm going to refrain from commenting," Charles says, and she socks him in the arm. He crosses his arms and raises his fingers to his temple, scanning the room; he probably thinks he's being very subtle, but mostly it makes him look really goofy. 

After a moment, Charles snaps his fingers. "There, that one," he says, pointing to the corner of the room. "The dark-haired one. You see him?"

Raven looks over; the man has his back turned, and she can't see much of him at all, other than that he's tall and slender. He's talking to a short redheaded woman who seems to be laughing way too much. "I see."

"Go over and ask him to dance," Charles says into her ear. "He won't say no."

She turns, and their faces are quite close together, close enough to kiss. "Would he have said no five minutes ago?"

"He already saw you," Charles says innocently. "I just nudged him a little, honest."

She grins at him, pecking him on the lips before pushing away from the bar. The music picks up again as she makes her way over, and she moves easily through the couples filling the dance floor. Someone comes to take the redhead away, and the man turns just as she approaches him. 

He takes her in, and his gaze is cool and predatory; he looks at her openly, his eyes flicking up and down her body, but it's more like someone looking at a nice car than a beautiful woman.

There's only one of those categories Raven would like to qualify for.

"Hello," he says, and it comes with a smirk; he already looks smug, but it's a good look on him.

"Hi there," she says, smiling her most charming smile- which is so much like something Charles would do that it's kind of hilarious. "I'm Raven."

"Erik," he says, giving her a slight bow. "This is where I'm supposed to say something like, 'Do you come here often?'," he says dryly.

"If it's the same to you, we can skip it," she says, grinning; Charles has picked a good one this time. "Let's just dance."

He takes her hand and leads her to the dance floor. His hands are big and callused- _gun calluses_ , her brain fills in, but she doesn't know if it's her or Charles- but it doesn't matter much, because the band is playing hot, and dancing is so much more important.

He's good at it, better than she expected, not that Charles would pick anyone who would step on her feet. It's not just that he's good; they're _compatible_. They're not second-guessing each other, fighting each other for it. He's leading, and she's following, and it all seems to be second-nature already.

The floor has cleared a little, and Erik looks around them. "Can I flip you?"

"I don't know," she says. "Can you?"

He grins. "Stand still and we'll find out."

It's terrifying for a moment, because he's so much taller than Charles; but she bends her knees and he holds her waist and they manage it. "I thought you were going to drop me," she tells him afterwards, laughing.

"I thought you were going to kick me in the head," he admits, and when Raven looks over, Charles is grinning.

The night is winding down, but Raven isn't; she's feeling keyed up, and the drink Erik buys her doesn't make much of a difference. They're sitting together at a table, and she leans towards him, putting her hand over his. "They say you dance like you make love."

"I just threw you over my arm in front of a room full of people," Erik points out, raising an eyebrow at her, and Raven rolls her eyes. "But I know what you mean." He turns his hand over, taking hers and pulling her closer by it. "Is your-" he inclines his head towards Charles, who's chatting up some girl- "going to be upset?"

"Just a friend," she tells him. "And he won't even notice," she adds, even as she's mentally checking in, their minds brushing together, his amused goodbye-and-good-luck ringing in her mind.

"Good," he says, and they're leaving, just like that.

His apartment is small, Spartan, but it's incredibly hard to care about that when he's kissing her from the first moment they come through the door. He pushes her up against it and spends a long time doing it, kissing her hard, kissing her until she can't breathe, until her heart feels like it's going to beat out of her chest.

He finally lets her up, pulling her towards the bed. There's just so much clothing, but thank god, now they're naked. He pushes her down onto the bed, crawling up her body, stopping to lick and suck at her nipples, and she gasps underneath him.

Then he's braced above her, and she's spreading her legs for him, and he pushes inside of her, and all at once she realizes that it's only been hours since Charles was there. She doesn't know if he can tell, if he can _feel_ it- god, she didn't even shower, what if she _smells_ like it, like cologne and sex, like _Charles_.

Her face goes red and her breath catches in her throat, and for a terrible, terrifying moment, she's afraid he's going to yell or kick her out or do something even worse.

But then he groans, like it's good, like it's _better_. "Your 'friend'?" he asks, looking at her with hooded eyes.

 _Charles, you clever bastard, how do you always think of everything?_ she thinks to herself. "Yeah."

He snaps his hips forward, making her cry out. "I see."

He fucks her so hard, so good; his cock is big and he knows what he's doing with it. He's in her so deep she thinks she can feel it in her _throat_ , and he's not stopping. He just keeps on going, thrusting into her over and over again, making her moan and sweat.

"Was it like this," he asks, breathing heavily, "with your _friend_?" She manages to shake her head; it's hot and threatening at the same time, and she didn't know how intoxicating that could be. "Is it better with me?" He pulls her legs up, dragging her into his lap, almost bending her double, and he starts moving faster, fucking her harder. "You're not answering my question," he chides her.

"You're making it really hard to think about him," she says honestly.

Erik laughs. "That's a yes."

He's moving faster now, and she's so overwhelmed by it that she can't help but come, can't stop coming, can't remember how to do anything else. She thinks it's done and it rolls over her again; he's still moving inside of her, and she only sort of registers it when he comes, growling.

And then it's over, and she's lying there, her head on his arm, still trembling a little, and Erik is, of all the cliched things to be doing, smoking a cigarette. In another situation she'd roll her eyes, but in this case she just reaches for the case and asks for a light.

They talk for a while; she's pretty sure Erik would let her stay if she wanted, but that's not the plan. She dresses and Erik calls her a taxi; when she leans down and gives him a goodbye kiss, he catches her by the wrist before she can get away. "I _will_ see you again," he says.

She smiles. "Of course you will," she tells him, because she'd been willing to see him again even before she knew what a very good fuck he was.

It's actually uncomfortable to sit in the taxi, and Raven really wants to laugh out loud about that. As soon as she gets into the apartment she lets her natural form flicker over her, getting rid of all those _clothes_. 

Charles's door is open and his light is off- the coast is clear- so she goes in, slipping into his bed. He rouses, turning towards her and putting an arm around her waist. "Have fun with Erik, my love?"

"Jesus Christ," she pants. "He wore me out."

"Mmm, I'll make sure and get a look in the morning," Charles says. "But not now. A pretty little thing named Angela ran me ragged."

She snorts. "We're awful."

"You grew up with me as a role model," he points out. "What else did you expect?"

She smiles, cuddling in closer to him. "Shut up and go to sleep."


	3. a truly wayward man

Erik's late tonight; he was already running behind, and it was hell getting a taxi. The club is already in full swing, the dance floor packed. Erik can't decide what he wants, right at the moment, so he grabs one of the tables up in the back, taking in the crowd.

He spots Raven almost immediately on the floor; her friend is standing at the bar, and Erik watches him watch her. Erik has never even spoken to him; his name is Charles, and he gets the sense that he and Raven have known each other for a very long time, but that's the extent of what he knows. When she doesn't go home with Erik, she goes home with him, and as far as Erik is concerned, that's starting to be a problem.

Raven's been going home with Erik for almost a month and a half now, but that's all. He doesn't know her phone number, doesn't know where she lives, isn't even entirely sure he knows her last name. He takes her home, they fuck, he calls her a cab, she leaves. More and more, Erik wants her to stay, but he's not going to say anything; if she wanted to, she'd do it. There's no sense embarrassing himself or making things awkward.

He's taking it out on her, though, knows he's doing it and can't seem to, doesn't really want to stop himself. He just keeps fucking her harder and harder, forcing her to take it, and he's just going to keep doing it until she stops him, which she doesn't seem inclined to do at all. He's sure he's sending her home with bruises by now, but he can't find it in himself to care; Charles can see them and think what he likes. He hopes Charles thinks about it. He hopes Charles thinks about it _every time_.

Erik thinks about it.

He shakes his head, bringing his attention back to what's in front of him. He can't see Charles anymore, but he can see Raven dancing with a somewhat gangly man with messy hair and glasses; Erik wouldn't be threatened by him even if he had a loaded gun in his hand.

Bad example.

Charles is an actual threat, one Erik should have been watching for, because now he's suddenly much too close, sliding into the seat across from Erik, setting his martini glass down on the table. "Hello," he says, and his clean, upper-class English accent isn't what Erik was expecting.

"Hello," Erik says tersely. "You can go now."

The corner of Charles's mouth quirks up. "Are you afraid we look like fairies, sitting here talking while ignoring all the beautiful women this room?" 

It's a bold move, a very dangerous challenge, but Erik's not in the mood for it. "Maybe I don't want to sit around wasting my time talking to the competition," he says, laying it straight out.

"We're not competitors," Charles tells him, leaning towards him across the table. "We're people who share a common interest."

Erik gives him a hard look. "Is that so?"

Charles looks at him intently, raising his fingertips to his temple, and Erik's mind is suddenly filled with images, discrete parts of his life swirling together in some pattern he can't describe. He's feeling things- side by side, on top of one another, his memories and not, entangled. A coin flipping idly across the backs of his fingers, Charles dipping into someone's mind for a drink order; Raven underneath him, her body rolling over Charles's; the scrape of stubble against Erik's thigh, a cock pushing into Charles's mouth.

«Far more than you know,» Charles says, and his voice is going straight into Erik's mind, bypassing his ears entirely.

«Nice parlor trick,» Erik thinks.

«Thanks,» Charles says wryly.

«We're sitting here, not talking, staring at each other,» Erik thinks at him, which feels so strange and so easy at the same time. « _Now_ we look like fairies.»

«Yes, right, hold on,» Charles says, and suddenly Erik's lips are moving without him; he can hear himself forming words, but he can't really hear what he's saying. 

«Raven, is she-» and before he can finish his thought, his mind fills up with it, Raven's skin flickering, changing, flipping through so many faces before blue scales flow all the way down her body. She's almost glowing, the background faded away from her, and Erik gets it: it's not how Charles has seen her, it's how he _sees_ her. «Impressive.»

«Wait until you see it up close,» Charles says, and it's not an accident that it's a "when" statement, not "if."

«I'm not sure what you want from me,» Erik tells him. «If you're offering me a half-share in Raven, I'm fairly certain I can do better on my own.»

Charles grins. «A half-share in Raven and a half-share in me,» he says. «Last I checked, that was a whole.» 

Erik raises an eyebrow at him; Charles is extremely pretty, but that's still very brassy of him. «You're awfully presumptuous.»

«I don't have to be,» Charles tells him. «I won't press if you're not interested,» he says lightly, and then something in his face goes hard, making him look dangerous all of a sudden; it's surprisingly attractive on him. «But you should know she comes home to _me_.»

A smile spreads on Erik's face. «I don't know if I can say say yes,» he tells Charles, «without some demonstration of the product.»

«I think that's a marvelous idea,» Charles says. He picks up his glass, tossing back the rest of his drink without hesitation. «It just so happens I have my samples at home.»

Charles's apartment is big; one of Raven's purses is on the end table in the living room, and that alone speaks volumes. Erik gets the sense that Charles is about to offer him coffee or some such nonsense, so he grabs him and drags him in, kissing him firmly. Charles opens up for him easily, putting his arms around Erik's neck to pull him down, keep him at just the right height to press their lips together. It's definitely good, but it's not what he came here for; they didn't go through all that build up for _sweet_ or _polite_.

Erik pushes him away. "Bedroom?"

"Through here," he says, taking Erik's wrist and pulling him along. Charles leads him in, and he makes no move to shut the door behind them; this thing with him and Raven is a little more interesting than Erik thought.

Erik reaches for him again, kissing him harder this time, his hand gripping Charles's hair to pull his head back. Now Charles is getting the picture, groaning into Erik's mouth; he's fighting Erik for it a little, but only enough that there's no question that he knows Erik will win.

When they separate, Charles strips out of his clothes so fast that Erik's not a hundred percent sure how he's done it; Erik's only just gotten down to his undershirt. He's just about to ask where the vaseline is, but Charles just sinks to the floor in front of him. He runs his hands over the placket of Erik's trousers, cupping Erik's hardening cock, looking up at him.

"Get on with it," Erik orders, and Charles grins. He unzips Erik's fly, pushing his clothing down around his thighs; he licks his palm, making a satisfied sound when he finally gets his hand around him. Charles strokes him slowly, so slowly at first, and Erik can't help moaning when he bends down and slides his lips around his cock. He knows what he's doing, his tongue working as he sucks, his hand moving on what he can't get into his mouth- and it isn't much, less than a lot of people who've tried.

Erik looks down, and he's struck by what he sees; Charles is kneeling for him, completely naked, Erik's cock disappearing into his mouth over and over again, and Erik just feels so goddamned _powerful_. There's no question who's in charge, who owns who here; Erik is victorious, and to the victor go the spoils- Charles, Raven, whatever he fucking wants.

Erik knows that none of this is spontaneous or instinctual; Charles is reaching straight into his mind and pulling out what he wants, finding all the buttons that need to get pressed. It doesn't matter for a second, because he's following through, he knows what Erik wants and he's _doing_ it. Erik's fairly certain Charles could stop him dead with a thought, but he's capitulating of his own free will.

The sheer idea of it presses him forward, drives him closer to the edge; then Charles does some kind of complicated trick with his tongue and Erik comes, his hand pushing on the back of Charles's head, not letting him go until he's swallowed every bit of it.

When it's done, Erik reaches down and gives Charles a hand up; Charles is a little shaky, and his cock is so hard that it looks painful. Erik walks him backwards towards the bed, shoving him onto it, far enough that there's room for Erik to kneel in between his legs. Erik strips out of his undershirt, throwing it to the floor; then he leans down, his mouth close enough to Charles's dick that Charles can probably feel his breath.

"You don't have to do that," Charles says quickly.

"Shut up," Erik tells him; he knows he doesn't, but his sense of fair play far outstrips his concern over his masculinity. He takes Charles's cock into his mouth, and Charles makes a broken, desperate noise; he can already tell it's been a long time since anyone's done this to him. Maybe a man's never done it; maybe they've only ever taken what he's offered, maybe they've left him untouched because of their _pride_.

Erik knows a lot about pride, possibly more than anyone else; it's just that he knows that it and sex have never gotten along.

Charles bucks up into his mouth, and Erik puts a hand on his hip, pushing him down into the mattress to keep him still; this is going to go the way _he_ wants it to. He's aware that he's not as good at this as Charles is, but it doesn't matter, not if the noises Charles is making are any indication, the way he's clawing at the bedsheets.

Charles doesn't last very long at all, and Erik can't help but be a little smug about it. He makes the best sounds when he comes, achy, desperate ones, broken up by indiscriminate and mostly unintelligible swearing. When Erik lifts his head away, Charles is staring at him wide-eyed, like he can't believe that just happened, like he can't believe Erik just let him do that, and Erik can only smirk in response.

Erik stands up, bending over and spitting into the wastebasket by the side of the bed. His trousers are still mostly on; he pulls them up, zipping his fly, and looks around for his undershirt.

"You should stay," Charles tells him, propping himself up on his elbows.

Erik raises an eyebrow at him. "Why's that?"

"Raven will be home any minute," he points out.

"You may have a point," Erik says.

Charles just grins.


	4. shake, trip, shimmy

Erik unzips his trousers and pushes them off; Charles repositions himself, making room for Erik on the bed, and Erik's only just gotten in next to him when he hears the front door open.

"Raven?" Charles calls; he looks at Erik, grinning, and puts a finger to his lips.

"Who else would it be?" she answers, and Erik can hear her putting her things down.

"You're early," Charles comments. "You didn't have any fun with your new friend?"

"He was a sweetheart, really, it's just that he was too-" Raven steps through the doorway just then, and she's bright blue all over; when she catches sight of them, she shrieks, jumping a foot backward. Erik blinks and she's blond again, like it never happened, like anyone could forget.

"You can relax, darling," Charles tells her. "You're among friends."

She sighs heavily, letting her skin change again, and Charles was right; it's so amazing to see it up close, to really get a good look at her as she does it. "Don't you ever scare me like that again," she warns Charles. She looks at Erik, then back to him. "You could have told me."

"About which part?" Charles asks.

She snorts. "You pick."

"Erik being gifted, that's his business," Charles says, ticking things off on his fingers, "Erik and I being naked together, that's new since we last spoke, Erik and I being naked together and waiting up for you, well." He grins. "That was a happy coincidence."

"The hell it was," she says, but she's smiling. "You didn't actually think I was going to bring that guy home." She gives him a look of horror. "God, I hope you didn't, because I don't even know what would have happened if I'd brought him in here and he'd seen the two of you screwing with the door open."

"We weren't screwing, not in a technical sense," Charles tells her, "and I knew you weren't going to bring him here. He was very solicitous and you made his whole week, but you were never going to sleep with him."

"I hate it when you send me out on charity missions," she says; she climbs on top of him, but she leans over and kisses Erik first. Her hair is bright orange, and it's slippery between Erik's fingers as he grabs a handful of it. She smiles at him when he lets her go, leaning over to kiss Charles; it's interesting to watch them, how comfortable it is between them, how much practice they've obviously had.

She leans back, looking at them sternly. "You better not have worn yourselves out," she says.

"Of course not," Charles reassures her. "You've caught us at a bad time, but I think I can safely say that we're down but not out."

Raven groans. "Why I even speak to you is a mystery to me."

Charles leans up, kissing her again. "Because I am very charming and you love me."

Something in Erik twitches when he hears it, the way that Charles can just toss around a word like that; he swallows it down, because this isn't the time- there's probably never going to be a time, honestly. 

Then Raven's kissing him, and it's suddenly not worth thinking about. Her hand is roaming over his body, tracing down his abdomen, coming to rest on his cock, which is still soft but already starting to get interested in where this is going. She pulls away from him, looking between him and Charles. "I want to see you kiss," she demands, looking a little put out that they're not doing it for her already.

Charles grins at him, and Erik leans over, kissing him hard, long, slow kisses; Charles's mouth still tastes a little like come, Erik's come, and that just makes it hotter, that the evidence is still there. Raven cards her hand through his hair as he does it, and when he takes a second to look up at her, she's staring at the two of them raptly. She takes his hand, guiding it to her, and the angle is bad and sort of backwards but she feels amazing. Her stomach is soft and smooth, but her breasts feel so strange underneath his hands, the texture of her skin alien and alluring at the same time. She doesn't have nipples, not that Erik can feel, so he runs her thumb across the small bumps where they'd be, scratching lightly over them with his nail; she jerks, moaning, and he does it again, harder this time. And then she writhes on top of Charles and Charles moans, kissing Erik harder and Erik is really starting to like this whole arrangement, the chain-reaction possibilities of it all.

"Break it up, break it up," Raven mutters, pulling Erik away so she can kiss him herself, desperately. She reaches down and strokes his rapidly hardening cock, and he moans into her mouth; when he reaches over to touch her, Charles has beaten him to it, his fingers moving shallowly in and out of her. Erik doesn't stop, just puts his hand over Charles's and pushes in right along with him, and she gasps loudly. She's so slick and ready, and Erik can't wait anymore.

"Stay there," Erik says, moving around behind her; she turns her head to watch him, see what he's going to do, and his eyes are on hers when he enters her, all at once, pushing in hard.

Charles is the unknown quantity in all of this. Raven goes to Charles, and Erik gets jealous; Raven goes to Erik, and Erik has no idea what Charles does. Charles wants to share, but that doesn't mean he likes it; maybe he hates it, maybe he gets off on it, maybe he ignores it, maybe he has no opinion at all. 

Erik's going to find out, because this is happening now; Erik's going to fuck her right _on top of him_ , and Charles is just going to have to deal with it. Charles can think whatever he thinks about it, but he's going to see Erik do it, he's going to _know_ what Erik does to her.

Raven is pushing back against him, making wonderful, wanton noises; he puts a hand on her hip, and her skin is so different here, covered by soft scales. He hasn't got a lot of time to spend marveling over it, as amazing as it is. He's got plans, and he's got a narrow- narrowing- window of time to accomplish them in.

He fucks her hard and fast, and Raven doesn't seem to have a problem with it at all. She's gasping, groaning as he takes her; he laces a hand in her hair and pulls, bending her head back, and she moans out loud. Erik catches a glimpse of Charles's face, and he's staring up at her, disbelief and want mixed up on his face. Charles pushes himself up so he can kiss her neck, her shoulders; he bites down on the place where they meet and she comes, crying out, shuddering all over.

She sighs, still shaking, still moving against him; it's so hard to pull out of her, so hard not to come right there, but it's not over for Erik. He puts his arms around her waist, drawing her up against him, and she turns her head to kiss him slowly, satisfied. He slides his hand down, and she gasps as his fingers play over her sensitized flesh; but then he whispers something in her ear, and she grins at him.

Charles is looking at the two of them, frowning like he knows they're up to something- which is fair, because they are. There's just one more thing Erik wants, one thing to top it off, like signing a painting.

Raven crawls up Charles's body, and Charles makes a muffled noise of surprise as she straddles his face, grinding against him; Raven starts moaning, and Erik knows Charles has taken the not-exactly-subtle hint. He wraps his hand around Charles's cock, and Charles bucks up into it, clearly desperate for Erik's touch. He strokes him slowly, just to fuck with him, and when Erik takes a spit-slick finger and presses against his hole, pushing in the slightest bit, Charles frantically waves a hand at him.

"Metal bottle, bathroom counter, _now_ ," Raven says suddenly, in Charles's voice. "Not missing that," she says, in her own, quickly getting resituated so she can watch Erik while Charles licks her.

Erik reaches out with his power, looking for it. The bathroom door is shut, and he twists the handle, flinging it open a little harder than he intended. He holds up his hand; the bottle slaps into it a few seconds later, and Erik doesn't waste any time, opening it and pouring the lotion onto his fingers. Charles groans, spreading his legs wider as Erik presses his fingers inside; Erik doesn't want to hurt him, but he's not exactly being gentle, either. There's no point in hiding that he wants to get past this part, wants badly to get inside of Charles as quickly as possible.

"Do it," Charles says, through Raven. "Please, Erik, I'm ready, just _do it_."

"I'm starting to think he likes to hear himself beg," Erik says, grinning at Raven, and before Charles can say anything else, Erik pushes inside of him. Charles moans, low and loud, as Erik starts fucking him; Erik wants to go slowly, make it last, do this to him as long as he can, but there's no chance in hell of that, not when he's already so close.

This is the apex of it, the very thing he's been working for. Charles couldn't _possibly_ be more his at this moment; he's got Erik's cock all the way up his ass, and Raven- Erik _just_ fucked her, and now Charles has his face planted in her cunt.

"God, Erik, yes," Raven says, Charles again. "I can _taste_ you in her, do it _harder_ -" She throws her head back, making a desperate noise, her own this time. "Fuck," she pants, "fuck, that's hot, Jesus _Christ_."

He grabs for her hand, pulling her towards him, leaning over Charles's body to kiss her wildly. There's the only thing that had been bothering him at all, sticking in the back of his mind- the idea that he was using Raven in a way he shouldn't, making her into his pawn, ignoring her to get at Charles. If she wants this as much as Erik, the same way Erik does, then all bets are off.

She pulls away from him, making wrecked noises; she's still only inches from Erik's face, and he watches as she comes, the way she sucks in a breath, the lost look on her face. He reaches down blindly, taking Charles's cock into his hand and working it quickly; Charles's hips are rolling against his, and Erik fucks him harder, faster, so close to coming that it's a wonder he's not. Now Raven is watching him, her yellow eyes bright, barely blinking, and it's better than Erik ever thought anything could be, makes Erik wonder why he hasn't been doing this every single day of his life.

He's already planning on doing it every day after this one.

It's so amazing when Charles comes, the way his ass squeezes Erik's cock; Erik manages a few more thrusts, and then he lets his orgasm wash over him. His head falls back, and he spends a long time just staring at the ceiling and being dumbfounded.

At some point, he comes back to himself; Charles is laying there underneath him, looking sleepy and pleased, and Raven is stretched out next to him. Erik lets himself sort of collapse in between them the two of them. Charles rolls towards him, kissing him, and he tastes like Raven, which is far hotter than it has any right to be. Raven puts a hand on his shoulder, and he turns, kissing her too; pretty soon they're all just kissing each other, quiet and lazy and comfortable.

It's so good, but it can't last forever. "I need to go," he tells them, tucking Raven's hair back behind her ear.

"Why would you need to go?" Charles says, propping himself up on an elbow and looking down at him. "We've got all the comforts of home right here. Food, hot and cold running water, bed full of naked people."

"I don't know how the three of us could sleep in this bed," he says, dodging the question.

"If it becomes an issue, Raven's is a little larger," Charles tells him.

Erik raises an eyebrow at him. "Then why weren't we fucking in Raven's bed?"

"We started before she even got here," he says. "That would have been a little rude."

"Only you, Charles," Raven says, rolling her eyes. "Only you would worry about being rude at a time like this."

Charles frowns at her. "Would you have been excited to come home and find Erik and I making use of your bed?"

She gives him a look. "Yes."

"Right," Charles says. "Future fucking goes on in Raven's bed."

"I think I can live with that," she tells him, "but you're responsible for the sheets."

"That seems like a fair compromise," he agrees.

Erik looks at them. "You really want me to stay?"

"Of course," Charles says, leaning over and kissing him. Erik looks over to Raven, and she's smiling- it's tentative, but she's smiling.

"I'm taking the first shower," Erik says firmly.

"You could do that," Charles says. "Or we could see how many people can fit in the shower at once."

"You're incorrigible," Raven tells him.

"That is, in fact, one of my favorite words in the English language," he says, grinning.

"Imagine how bad he must be in Latin," Erik tells her.

"Much worse," Charles assures them. "But it sounds so much more classical."

Raven shakes her head.

\--

The dance floor is mostly full tonight, more people than Erik's seen in a while, but Erik is leaning on the bar, ignoring the woman in the low-cut white dress who's been trying to catch his eye all evening. Charles and Raven are dancing, and they look good; it flows between them, natural and easy, not all that different from when-

«Stop thinking about fucking us,» Charles tells him, breaking into his thoughts suddenly; at first he used to jump when Charles did that, but now it's been so many months that Erik has almost forgotten that it's not totally normal. «It's distracting.»

«You're all the way across the room,» Erik protests.

«You're doing it _very_ loudly,» he says, and Erik can feel him grinning. «I'm surprised normal people can't hear, the way you're carrying on.»

«Spoilsport,» Erik says, lifting his glass to his mouth.

«Love you, too,» Charles tells him, and Erik's hand freezes. There's a moment of silence, where all Erik can feel is a sort of confusion in Charles's mind. «Don't know why you thought we didn't. Now drink your beer, there's a good boy, that blond with the large breasts is looking straight at you and wondering what's wrong.»

Erik snaps out of it, lifting the glass again. «How did you know she had large breasts?» he challenges.

« _You're_ the one who looked at them,» Charles says, a little grumpily.

Erik smiles to himself. «Shut up and dance.»

Charles's mind brushes against his, almost like a kiss, and then he pulls away.


End file.
